


He Was A S0ccer Boy

by agender



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Dryhumping, M/M, athletic!gerard, punk!frank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 11:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5826235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agender/pseuds/agender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Punk Frank has been in love with the straight soccer player Gerard Way for almost all of High School, but what happens when the boy he is infatuated with accidentally kicks him in the face with a ball?</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Was A S0ccer Boy

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first work on AO3 :) hope you enjoy!  
> (i post most of my shit in wattpad, username @agender)

It was like that song by Avril Lavigne or some shit, well that's how Frank explained his tragic love story to his group of friends at least. They just laughed, cranked up the volume to whatever punk-ass band they were listening to and called Frank gay. He was actually polysexual, mind you.

Back to Avril Lavigne: Frank had a huge, polysexual crush on Gerard Way, player of the soccer team at their school. But, as the love story goes, Gerard had absolutely no idea who Frank was, or that he was the short kid sat at the bleachers with the ripped jeans and watching him play and toss the ball-- well, he did notice the weird kid with the fauxhawk sat on the bleachers, but Gerard didn't know shit about him, let alone his name.

So Frank continued watching him every Wednesday after school like the stalker he was, and secretly going to every single one of Gerard's games, cheering when he scored a goal, or when he didn't, and booing the other team, just because he could.

He had no other way of going to the matches but alone, since his friends were too punk for that soccer shit, what the fuck, Frank.

So Frank stared at him whenever he could: from soccer to the hallways, and most of all, in that one French class they shared. That was another thing Frank loved about Gerard, besides from excelling at playing soccer, he was also one of the smartest people he knew, and his French was fucking breath-taking. He would bet good money he could come in his pants by Gerard simply rolling his fucking tongue in that language.

Frank was shit at French, but no one could prove he only took that class to see Gerard.

So, yeah, Frank was fucking infatuated with Gerard Arthur Way and every single thing he did or said. And how could someone not? With his black long-ish hair and his upturned nose and his pale skin and his fucking thighs and his motherfucking blue soccer uniform, damn.

Apparently, many people were blind to Gerard's charm, and all they saw was a nerdy kid who also player soccer, and okay, he was quite decent at soccer, but they didn't see him as angelic and perfect as Frank did. Because he really wasn't, he was just a kid who liked sports and French, nothing really special about him. Not that Gerard thought there was something wrong with him, no. Besides his small chub above the hips, he liked his life, and he liked himself.

Gerard was always smiling and sorrounded by friends. There were no 'popular' kids at their school, they just... were. There were the people you knew, and the people you didn't, no bullies or assholes or jocks, just teens.

Frank considered himself lucky, because, being an open polysexual boy wouldn't have been easy in a school with bullies.He also considered himself lucky to be living in the same time and space as Gerard, God bless. His nights in basically consisted of stalking Gerard on any social media he could (oh my God, was that a picture of a cat on Gerard's Instagram? Wasn't he allergic to them?) and jerking off. 

Today was his favorite days of the week: Wednesday. And I bet you can guess why. Gerard had soccer today. Fuck yeah.

Frank would get to see him in those little shorts that formed the uniform, Gerard's surname as well as the number '21' in big, white, bold letters at the back. So he basically floated from and to his lessons, his mind filled with the image of Gerard's ass as he ran after the soccerball, his pitch black hair whipping against his forehead and neck.

But he also felt as if something was off today. Frank just felt this odd feeling in his gut, and no, it wasn't a boner -he had checked. He knew exactly why that feeling had decided to make itself a home on the pit of his stomach though, it was because he hadn't seen Gerard at all.

Granted the only time that Frank saw him aside from French and soccer practice was in the hallways, but his eyes would always fall on Gerard, even if the hallway was crowded as fuck, it was like his eyes were immediately attracted to that mop of greasy hair. As well as that, his dick could always tell when Gerard was in the room.

No one ever said Frank wasn't weird.

Anywho, Frank was already missing the sight of Gerard, and he didn't even want to think about Gerard missing soccer practice today. The older boy had never ever missed practice, so Frank always saw him at least on Wednesdays, but what if he didn't come today? Oh boy, Frank would scream.

Still, he proudly marched to the bleachers as soon as the final bell echoed on the walls of the school, hand flattening his fauxhawk, making sure the blonde sides laid correctly, in case Gerard did look at him today.

So he sat at the bottom of the bleachers and waited, whipping out his phone and sending weird Snapchats to his friend Pete as he did.

Soon enough, he spotted the team making its way to the field, all clad in the blue uniform that the school provided. Trying to not be obvious -and failing- Frank's narrowed eyes scanned the crowd of boys, longing to see the boy he was in love with.

But he didn't see any dyed black hair, and with his heart aching inside his chest, he released a small breath, almost a gasp, if you will. And that's when he saw it. Bright red, flaming hair, framing a round pale face that could only be Gerard's. Frank almost stopped breathing, he was frozen in his spot, petrified as he watched the boy's hand run through his new hair.

"Motherfuck," Frank exhaled, watching as the team gathered around to listen to their coach, who was giving them instructions to run around the field. Gerard's new firetruck hair contrasted brightly against the blue uniform, and Frank felt his fingers itch to pull on it.

How could that motherfucker get any hotter? It was not fair.

Meanwhile, Gerard was completely oblivious to how he was being blatantly stared at from the bleachers. He was too focused running the four laps the coach had ordered, and pushing back his teammates when they barreled their weight onto him playfully.

When they finished the laps, they divided into teams and began playing a little friendly soccer game. The matches weren't near, but they had to train the new kids and show them the positions and arrangements they needed to know.

Gerard's hair was new. He had decided to go for it at midday, when he got bored of studying for his History test. That was the reason why he had skipped the whole day, to study for that goddamn History test they had tomorrow. So while he was busy staring at the wall and pretending to study, he remembered the red dye along with the bleach he had bought and stored in the bathroom cabinet, promising himself he would do it someday. So he decided fuck it, and diddly did it.

"Way!" He heard one of his teammates yell, and he looked just in time to see the ball coming towards him. He quickly maneuvered the ball between his feet and ran forward with it, dodging the other team and not stopping, focusing on making a goal, and when he was close enough, he kicked.

And missed.

But the ball kept flying through the air. "Watch out!" 

Frank turned just in time to see the checkered ball hitting him straight on the face. Well, ouch. He thought as his head spinned, and he clutched his nose after the ball had bounced off.

Gerard, from his spot on the field, grimaced. That did not look nice. So, being the kind person he was, he jogged to the bleachers, slowing down when he reached the boy, crouching down slightly and focusing on checking if he was alright before grabbing the ball.

"Shit, kid. You alright?"

Frank looked up. Had he died? Was he in Heaven and the love of his life was greeting him with a lopsided smile? But then he remembered his browser history and the band member nudes he had saved in his phone, and realized there was no way he was in Heaven. Wait, that meant...

"I didn't hit you that hard, did I? Are you bleeding?" And Gerard slowly removed Frank's hand from his red nose. It wasn't bleeding, but it was almost as red as Gerard's new hair. "Doesn't look that bad, you alright?"

"Fuck," Frank breathed, still staring at Gerard (and how close he fucking was, oh my God). "I mean- yah, I'm fine, yes,"

Gerard's mouth turned into a smile. "Sorry about that," And he stood up, walking a few meters to pick up the ball from the floor, tossing it gently up and kicking it mid-air so it fell back on the field. Fucking skills. He turned back to Frank. 

"I like your hair," Frank mumbled before he could stop himself. Gerard looked over his shoulder at him, his ever-present smile still there.

"Thanks, dyed it today. I'd love to stay and chat, but I got a ball calling my name," And with that he ran off, leaving Frank to murmur under his breath something along the lines of 'my balls are calling your name', before his mind finally processed what Gerard had said.

He'd love to stay and chat? Was that an invitation to chat some other time? 

Frank whipped out his phone and tweeted as much as he could about his encounter with Gerard as a hundred and forty characters would let him. He might have also posted it in his spam account on Instagram so his extense audience of a whole eleven followers could enjoy... Technically ten, because he followed himself with his personal account.

Thing is, motherfucking Gerard Way not only had blessed him with a ball to the face, but had talked to him and said he'd love to chat. 

So Frank did the only thing he could: he stayed in his place, red nose and all, watching as Gerard continued playing and actually scoring, dodging feet and his soccer shoes making the dirt under them flick upwards as he ran. Frank would wait the whole hour until Gerard was free to talk to him, because he had said he wanted to chat, and Frank was more than ectastic to do so.

But when the team was done and they were finished stretching, and Frank jogged to where Gerard stood, a small smile on his face, he didn't really get too much out of Gerard, for he was already leaving, red hair plastered to his forehead with sweat from the training. 

Frank was left kinda pissed at Gerard for not talking to him after he had said he would. Well, Gerard hadn't promised anything, he had said that simply out of politeness, but Frank was still grumpy.

Gerard, on the other hand, thought nothing out of the encounter. The fauxhawk kid had called him attention though, and when he asked Mikey if he knew him, his younger brother simply muttered a 'Frank Iero', which Gerard guessed was his name. Frank was attractive, sure, but Gerard was fine with being acquaintances with the short kid.

Of course, Frank was not satisfied with just being an acquaintance to Gerard, and decided to do something about it. It was both a blessing and a curse how reckless Frank could be. So his fearless ass decided he had had enough, that he would burst into the lockers the very next Wednesday.

And he did.

He knew that Gerard was always the last one out of the locker room, so he waited by the door as the rest of the soccer team walked out, one by one. And when he counted that it was the whole team minus one, he creeped inside, locking the door behind him and hoping to catch a very naked Gerard in there. But as he turned the corner, he saw Gerard sitting on one of the benches, his blue shorts still on him, but his uniform shirt had been replaced by a black wifebeater.

Fuck, shit, dick. Frank thought as he watched Gerard tie his white Converse, and decided to go for it. He used both hands to push on Gerard's shoulders so they bumped against the lockers, and watched Gerard's eyes widen as he was pinned back.

"Oh, Frank, right?" Gerard said, recognizing his face, still confused as to why he was being cornered against the lockers.

But Frank was past talking, and did the next best thing: he placed his lips onto Gerard's in a rough kiss, not caring about anything as his hand fisted in Gerard's red hair, his fingers staining with the dye mixed in with sweat. Frank couldn't help but release a small moan into the taller boy's mouth, he was finally kissing Gerard, even if it was one-sided.

Gerard was still trying to process the information: a cute boy was kissing him, and that wasn't something that happened every day, so he kissed back, standing up from the bench so Frank wouldn't have to crouch to kiss him, and placed his hand on the smaller boy's neck, licking into his mouth with less desperation than Frank was.

Holy shit, Gerard was kissing him back. Frank couldn't believe it! It was finally fucking happening, he had taken a shot and scored, and he wanted to see just how much he could score. As Gerard walked forwards, making Frank walk backwards and bump against the other row of lockers, he realised being trapped against the metal wasn't as comfortable as he would like, but it would have to do, so he raised a leg too hook on Gerard's behind, pushing his hips into the other boy's.

Gerard was taken aback. He had never done something with a boy. He had been with a few girls, yeah, but it wasn't like he was completely straight, per se. He was simply him, and he liked who he liked, and right now, he found Frank really fucking attractive, so he wasn't about to say no to have a first experience with a boy; he went for it, using the hand that wasn't on Frank's neck to grasp the shorter boy's ass, pulling him closer and not letting go.

Frank thrusted his hips harder against Gerard's, his half-hard member begging for attention. 

The kiss was never broken, mouths fervently crashing as their hips moved in their own accord against the other's. Both boys were now sporting full on erections from the friction, Gerard's more noticeable beneath his uniform shorts as Frank's lay slightly more hidden under his jeans. 

But when the contact just wasn't enough, Gerard broke the kiss, a string of spit still connecting their lips.

"Fuck," He said, one of his hands holding tightly to Frank's ass as the other travelled to the boy's thigh, trying to get him to raise his leg. And when Frank got the message, Gerard immediately pressed forward, holding Frank up between his body and the lockers, a much better angle to grind their crotches together. "Shit, Frank,"

Gerard buried his face in the crook of Frank's neck as he continued moving his hips, minutes away from creaming his pants. When he felt Frank's hand tangle on the back of his hair, that time was easily decreased to a few seconds. Above him, Frank moaned loudly, hips stuttering as he continued to yank on Gerard's hair.

"Frank," Gerard panted, and hearing him moan his name like that simply made him come apart, spilling everywhere inside his underwear, not thinking about how he would have to walk home with cum in his jeans. Hips stuttering as Gerard whispered dirty words in his ear, he felt on the top of the world. But he had to come back of his high, for Gerard's erection was still pressed to his thigh as the older boy thrusted.

"Yeah, fuck," Frank groaned, body exhausted and hoping Gerard would come soon so he could sit down. He continued yanking on the taller boy's hair, watching his parted mouth and loving how Gerard swore under his breath as he got closer to coming. 

"Coming," And that was the only warning as Gerard came in his shorts, stopping his movements altogether as he rode his aftershocks, using all his strength to not fall to the floor and take Frank down with him.

As both boys heavily breathed, they found each other's eyes, and small smiles stretched their mouths, not quite believing what just had happened. They had come inside their fucking pants like the teenagers they were, in the school's changing room for fuck's sake! Frank was the most dazzled of the two. He had just kissed and humped Gerard. Gerard had kissed and humped back. He tried not to squeal.

Finally, Gerard took a step back and gently lowered Frank onto his feet to the ground. He rested against the lockers as he watched Gerard zip up his Nike bag and slide it over his shoulder, turning back to Frank and pressing a kiss against the corner of the smaller boy's mouth before grinning.

"See you next Wednesday," 

And with that, he walked out of the room, leaving a heart-eyed Frank behind, who should hurry home before the cum in his pants started drying.


End file.
